The Battle of The Hair

"Cut That Hair!" - Pavement

"Get a haircut and get a real job!" - George Thorogood

It's one of the oldest cliches and most enduring (in my mind anyway). Long haired, wild youth gets older, grows up and and has to cut that damn hair.

I don't know how wild I was from that time to now and my hair gets shaggy - not long - but I do know, I'm not Thurston Moore, though like him, I do have kids. Kids who have to get their hair cut because the most wonderful lady in their life who decides if the sun should rise or not, "would really like them to look nice and not homeless."

This same most wonderful lady in my life has said the same thing to me several times and my two boys, like me, try as they might to fight it, end up in a barber's or stylist's chair.

When the hair hits the floor and all is said and done, I feel like such a hypocrite and a bit of a sell-out.

Thankfully/Unfortunately, that part of me still exists.

The part that a)wants to fight for follicle freedom and never cut my hair, b)wants to buy only local and never shop at Walmart, and c)wants to drive an imaginary 8-seat SUV that runs on dreams and reverses the greenhouse effect with every mile.

Then again, it's just hair.

It grows impressively fast, serves some basic protective functions, but largely, it's a vanity thing.

I wrestle with this realization each and every time - before, during and after - I or my boys get our "ears lowered."

Then all of a sudden, a warm smile of approval is flashed and like dark magic or sinister science, my memory is erased, my mood is elevated and I find myself muttering "I like it cut short. Remind me of this next time."

Judging from the sudden change in demeanor and the eye roll, I suspect she's heard this before and isn't looking forward to that next time.

I hope I don't pass this on to the kids.

My oldest sings a song

It's called Monster Thang and it's kinda catchy. I play guitar (badly or lazily or both).

My Hometown (Returning to The Fold)

I never ever dreamed in a million years, I'd be writing this post from this zip code: 43130.



I certainly never ever dreamed up in my head a scenario where I would not only be okay with it, but also pretty excited about it.

That would have been insane.

Here we are though. Here, being Lancaster, Ohio for those unfamiliar (or just too lazy to look it up).

To quote Chuck Berry, "it goes to show you never can tell."

And at the beginning of this year, we really couldn't have predicted any of the events that unfolded or the whirlwind surrounding them and enveloping us. It's just equally too bizarre as it is commonplace - which is why it's perfect, I suppose.

First, there was the super wonderful yet surprising news that we were going to have another baby.
Then, there was the hellishly slo-mo nightmare of showing our first house, selling our first house and moving out of our first house.

Now, I just made that last part sound waaaay too quick and easy. I feel you’re not getting it, so imagine if you will, the slowest simultaneous peeling of the driest, stickiest band-aid on your most sensitive areas of your body while the loudest, most annoying fly buzzes around and in your ear and your most-prized possessions are burned and liquefied in front of you.

Honestly, that takes care of about half the pain, stress, and anger you experience during the process of selling a house and moving.

Anyway, with two kids under 4 and one due any day now (seriously, any day now, baby girl!) we find ourselves back in our hometown, trying to buy a new house (our last house/the house we will die in because-we’re-never-going-through-that-again) and taking up quarters with my wonderfully accommodating and almost too hospitable in-laws.

The uncertainty of this move’s impact on our “daily life as we know it” (and our ability to get a really good tamale) pales in comparison to the assured hope we have that it’s the right move, which grants us the convenience of being closer to family, and the safety and security a small town brings.

While I never thought I’d go “Full Suburban”, I think I’m going to enjoy it.
I know the kids will.

But just so there’s no confusion, suburbanite or not, you’ll never catch me dead in a mini-van.

Dancing with my boys

Anyone who knows me knows I'm a music freak and knows my kids are crazy about music too.

Mostly, people know about this because I'm one of those annoying parents who has to update the whole world when my little guys sing, dance to, or verbally request a Beatles, Motorhead, or Thermals song (or even, you know, one of the kiddie classics like Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star).

I just think it's the most amazing thing in the world.

Sharing our love of music and seeing their wide-eyed wonderment or baby booty-shakin' the first time they hear (or see and hear - thanks, YouTube) Ring of Fire, Three Little Birds, or Blitzkrieg Bop is beyond incredible.


My oldest little guy started out at 3 weeks or so by kicking his legs to The Chieftains' An Comhra Donn/Murphy's Hornpipe.
Later, he was changing Bow Wow Wow's "I Want Candy" to "I Want Mommy" and belting Green Day's Basket Case. Now, he belts his own songs about wanting to go to the park or not wanting to put his toys away (I think Jeffry Hyman would approve).


My youngest, post-arrival and early on preferred mostly reggae and namely Bob Marley but Toots, Gregory Isaacs, and Peter Tosh also made their way onto his customized playlist. Now, though he enjoys pretty much anything his older brother listens to, he's got "his" songs.


I'd like to think my beautiful wife and I have nurtured their inherent love of music through regular exposure by routine (i.e., I have different music on most of the time so they hear a lot of different music) but a lot of it is probably genetic.


Still, another theory is dancing.


By Ohio state law, I'm a wallflower, publicly but at home with my boys, I let my freak flag fly and pogo, twist n' shout and Molly Ringwald to anything and everything with a beat.


Exhibit A:


From on the knee to in my arms to on the floor, I dance with my kids.

In our old place, our kitchen floor doubled as a dance floor and in the warmer months, its large side window with its unencumbered view of the neighbor’s back yard was frequently open.

Once, I overheard our neighbor laugh and make some homophobic remark about dancing. (It must be hard being that ignorant.)
It's just a fun, joyful, and true expression of both, my love for them and my love for the music. It's also decent exercise if you let loose and go crazy for at least 20 minutes.

Whether you’re a music freak too or just a casual listener, I urge you to dance with your kids – boys and girls.

Rock ‘em, swing ‘em or sway ‘em.
Bop with ‘em, hop with ‘em or pop n’ lock with ‘em.
Just dance.

Maybe it will instill confidence in them, give them a healthier sense of self, remind them later on in life not to take themselves too seriously, or just to appreciate the little things.

I don’t know.

I’m not a child development specialist and I don’t have any supporting evidence on the positive impact of dance in a child’s life.
It just seems like a good idea and it feels right even if to others, it seems so wrong.

“…do the twist, the stomp, the mashed potatoes too/ any old dancing that you wanna’ do/ Oh, let’s dance” – Status Quo’s “Anniversary Waltz”

Friday night crash

I'm so unbelievably tired but my mind is racing and there's only one remedy - write!
Or type or blog (whatever).

So, what's on my mind?

This:

In less than a year, my oldest son will start preschool.
In less than six months (I predict), my youngest son will be potty-trained.
In less than a month, my daughter will be born.

Freelance writer is probably not a viable long-term career option.

Occupy Wall Street Protestor definitely isn't.

Before the end of this year, we may move into a new house and we may be driving some variation of an SUV or mini van.

The location of both new house and new vehicle may be within 15 minutes of the house I grew up in.

So does this put Oakland PD ahead of LAPD for "Most hated law enforcement in the US?"

And of course, this:

Some time between these future events and possibly very soon, I will completely lose it, after the severity of the situation and enormousness of this reality sets in.

I have no idea how it's going to go down really but I could guess the text conversation in my head.


????????
WHOA. EPIC.
OMG WTF SRSLY WTF OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG
FML OMG OMG OMG LOL LOL LOL LOL OMG OMG OMG OMG
:) :) :) :) AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WHOA. EPIC.
!!!!!!!!!